- end_line
- 628
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.838Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 546
- text
- CHAPTER III.
HE ARRIVES IN TOWN
From the boat’s bow, I jumped ashore, before she was secured, and
following my brother’s directions, proceeded across the town toward St.
John’s Park, to the house of a college friend of his, for whom I had a
letter.
It was a long walk; and I stepped in at a sort of grocery to get a
drink of water, where some six or eight rough looking fellows were
playing dominoes upon the counter, seated upon cheese boxes. They
winked, and asked what sort of sport I had had gunning on such a rainy
day, but I only gulped down my water and stalked off.
Dripping like a seal, I at last grounded arms at the doorway of my
brother’s friend, rang the bell and inquired for him.
“What do you want?” said the servant, eying me as if I were a
housebreaker.
“I want to see your lord and master; show me into the parlor.”
Upon this my host himself happened to make his appearance, and seeing
who I was, opened his hand and heart to me at once, and drew me to his
fireside; he had received a letter from my brother, and had expected me
that day.
The family were at tea; the fragrant herb filled the room with its
aroma; the brown toast was odoriferous; and everything pleasant and
charming. After a temporary warming, I was shown to a room, where I
changed my wet dress, and returning to the table, found that the
interval had been well improved by my hostess; a meal for a traveler
was spread and I laid into it sturdily. Every mouthful pushed the devil
that had been tormenting me all day farther and farther out of me, till
at last I entirely ejected him with three successive bowls of Bohea.
Magic of kind words, and kind deeds, and good tea! That night I went to
bed thinking the world pretty tolerable, after all; and I could hardly
believe that I had really acted that morning as I had, for I was
naturally of an easy and forbearing disposition; though when such a
disposition is temporarily roused, it is perhaps worse than a
cannibal’s.
Next day, my brother’s friend, whom I choose to call Mr. Jones,
accompanied me down to the docks among the shipping, in order to get me
a place. After a good deal of searching we lighted upon a ship for
Liverpool, and found the captain in the cabin; which was a very
handsome one, lined with mahogany and maple; and the steward, an
elegant looking mulatto in a gorgeous turban, was setting out on a sort
of sideboard some dinner service which looked like silver, but it was
only Britannia ware highly polished.
As soon as I clapped my eye on the captain, I thought myself he was
just the captain to suit me. He was a fine looking man, about forty,
splendidly dressed, with very black whiskers, and very white teeth, and
what I took to be a free, frank look out of a large hazel eye. I liked
him amazingly. He was promenading up and down the cabin, humming some
brisk air to himself when we entered.
“Good morning, sir,” said my friend.
“Good morning, good morning, sir,” said the captain. “Steward, chairs
for the gentlemen.”
“Oh! never mind, sir,” said Mr. Jones, rather taken aback by his
extreme civility. “I merely called to see whether you want a fine young
lad to go to sea with you. Here he is; he has long wanted to be a
sailor; and his friends have at last concluded to let him go for one
voyage, and see how he likes it.”
“Ah! indeed!” said the captain, blandly, and looking where I stood.
“He’s a fine fellow; I like him. So you want to be a sailor, my boy, do
you?” added he, affectionately patting my head. “It’s a hard life,
though; a hard life.”
But when I looked round at his comfortable, and almost luxurious cabin,
and then at his handsome care-free face, I thought he was only trying
to frighten me, and I answered, “Well, sir, I am ready to try it.”
“I hope he’s a country lad, sir,” said the captain to my friend, “these
city boys are sometimes hard cases.”
- title
- Chunk 1